


Large Talons

by BelaCinderella



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Masturbation, Other, Suit Kink, Uniform Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 02:52:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7416745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelaCinderella/pseuds/BelaCinderella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel Reyes is very proud of the suit he designed. Sometimes pride can be twisted into lust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Large Talons

It had been months since Gabriel had gotten the new suit. Talon had gone to extreme lengths to get it made to his specifications and it showed. The body armor had Kevlar reinforcement, the boots were solid but light, and the coat was designed in such a way that the leather looked and moved like a cape, but never actually shifted from where it had been laid.

But Gabriel’s favorite pieces were the gloves and mask. He had taken his time designing those and they were what he took the most pride in when getting dressed. The gloves were made of such soft, supple leather that it felt almost like he was putting kid gloves on. They had been so stiff when he first got them, full grain leather with a hint of oil to moisturize it, but now, like a baseball glove, he had molded them to his hands. They were still a little rough on the outside from handling his guns all day, but he took good care of them, oiled them every night, and it showed. They were a gaudy utilitarian’s dream. His mask, on the other hand, was his showpiece. Bone white, it stood out against his black and gray outfit. Made to look like a barn owl, he had brought a skull of one to the design meetings, thoroughly unnerving the technicians, but it had gotten his point across. The permanent scowl matched his altered voice and the uncanny resemblance to other depictions of Grim Reapers was usually enough to get his targets to give up on the spot. 

Gabriel Reyes loved the look he designed. 

Putting on the mask last before heading out on a mission, his pièce de résistance, always gave him this little adrenaline rush, a twinge in his gut and a smile on his face. It was what separated Reaper from Reyes. 

He had been admiring his pieces during downtime at the base he was stationed at. Talon had been quiet as of late and it left Gabriel with time to admire his work. After a shower he was sitting around in his sweats, cleaning his suit to kill time. He had finished cleaning the duster coat and had already oiled his gloves, and was slowly, meticulously polishing his mask. Sitting on his cot, he held it up to his face to check it. 

There was that twinge, the feeling of danger and excitement that came with it. He put the mask on, breathing in contentedly as he relished the little thrill he got wearing it. He reached out and grabbed a glove, sliding it on to his right hand and flexing his fingers, looking at the way the light played on the claws. The time spent buffing and polishing them always felt a little ridiculous in the moment, but the end result? With the fluorescent lights of the base glinting off the sharp tips, Gabriel was so proud of his handiwork. The twinge happened again, stronger this time, as he curled and spread all of his fingers in slow motion, reveling at the quiet savagery his gloves conveyed. 

The next time, though, he recognized the spark in his gut not as pride or excitement, but of arousal. Watching the glove curl and twist in his hand, feeling the menace he conveyed with his mask, knowing what he was capable of on the battlefield … Gabriel felt his dick jump in his sweatpants. 

“Mierda,” he breathed. He leaned back against the wall, letting his knees fall open. He reached his right hand up to his face, breathing in the scent of the earthy leather, feeling his dick harden. 

“Fuck,” he rasped, picking up his hips and sliding his sweats off with his left hand, kicking them off when they pooled around his ankles. Wearing nothing but his mask and his glove he leaned his head back against the cool wall and tried not to think about what he was about to do. 

He moved his left hand up his thigh to gently stroke his dick, breath stuttering as he touched himself. He took his gloved hand away from his face, wrapping it briefly around his throat and squeezing, the points of the claws denting his skin as the blood flow to his brain was momentarily interrupted. He kept stroking himself as he ran his glove down his torso, the claws leaving five angry red tracks in their wake. 

When his glove got to the junction of his thighs, he replaced his left hand with his right. His chest tightened and his breath stopped when he saw the sharp, cruel claws wrapped around his dick. He gave an experimental stroke, his breathing already ragged as he watched the tips of the talons glide over him, the soft, moist leather tight around him. There was just enough rough texture on the gloves to keep Gabriel’s teeth on edge as it dragged over his sensitive skin. He tightened his hand and sped up the strokes, his breathing speeding up as well. The pride in seeing his vicious gloves wrapped around his cock mixed deliciously with the danger in knowing that if he wasn’t careful he’d cut his dick off with the claws. 

His hot breath, trapped by the mask, warmed his face, while the rest of his body, exposed to the cool air in the base, goosebumped all over, the flush from his face creeping down his neck and chest. He ran the fingernails of his left hand over the scratches the glove left behind, reaching his nipple, tweaking it hard. 

On this stroke, when he reached the head of his dick, Gabriel ran the leather thumb pad over the top, making his hips buck. He moaned, barely able to look at the how good his dick looked in his glove. He felt the heat pooling at the base of his spine and he sped his hand up, feeling the blunt metal sides of the claws against his dick, the butter soft textured leather heating up his skin. He felt his dick twitch just before his orgasm hit and he let his head fall back against the wall as he pulled one long, tight stroke, milking his cock through his whole orgasm, cum puddling onto his glove as the last of it shuddered through him. 

Breathing heavily, he laid his gloved hand on his thigh, hand subconsciously tightening, digging the points into his skin and he came down from his fog. His spunk was cooling against his leg as the tips of his claws finally broke the skin on his thigh, shocking him out of his orgasm high, small beads of blood forming around the metal. 

“Mierda” he growled, “so much for keeping them clean.” He pulled off his glove and grabbed the rag he has been using earlier to clean them, wiping it and himself down. Then he reverently laid the glove on the table next to the rest of his equipment, then reached up and took the mask off too, running a thumb over one of the eye sockets. Laying it down next to his gloves, he flopped face down on his cot. He’d clean the gouges on his thigh when he woke up.

**Author's Note:**

> See where I generate most of my garbage content on [tumblr!](https://www.hanzostitties.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> Watch me sin in real time on my [Twitter!](https://www.twitter.com/Bela_Cinderella)
> 
>  
> 
> (Also I want everyone to know that the title is definitely from Napoleon Dynamite and that's really why I avoided using the word "talon" in this fic. Because every time I wrote it I heard "do the chickens have large talons?" ... the answer is yes, this chicken has very large talons)


End file.
